


Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - The one time we kissed - but not each other

by Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis (Samstown4077)



Series: Colepaldi Collection [20]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Friendship, Humour, Romance, an almost kiss, and a real one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2014-11-04
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2564396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Colepaldi-in-the-Tardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the kissing scene in Dark Water and some interviews I read, I decided to write about the shooting oft he kiss and Jenna’s reaction and a confrontation with Peter afterwards. I honestly don’t know how I came up with the story twist in the middle - I guess I was desperate to write a kiss for them, without breaking my own rule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who - Colepaldi RPF - The one time we kissed - but not each other

**Author's Note:**

> There is no need for it , but at one point in the story I mention something that happened in  
> [ _**Before the show ends** _ ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2526239)  
>  so you might want to read it.  
> English is not my native, sorry for any mistakes, and thanks for reading it anyway.  
> Please do not read if you don't like RPF. Remember this is a fictional story.

Take seven. It feels like take 78  for her. It seems never to end. Since an hour they are discussing how to do it. Eyes open. Eyes closed. Against the wall or better against the glass. After the second time Michelle had snogged Peter, Jenna had to stop acting the _“I don’t want to be here”_ feeling.

 _‘It is just a damn kiss, not the audition for the Oscars, god damn it!’_ she thinks, but she stays put, and does as if she really does not care.

She has to lie to herself, because for a reason she can't explain to herself, she started to care when they did take number three and started snickering afterwards.

 _‘Take a fucking break!’_ she has a hard time not to roll her eyes and just gives the cameraman a polite smile.

“What do you think?” they are asking her.

 _‘I think get yourself a freaking room!’_ “Uhm, wall, better wall,” her teeth bit down her lower lip and she grins at them both like she had forgotten how mimic works.

Her smile drops when Michelle turns back to Peter, “I have another idea, lets do again.”

The urge to put her finger into her throat is almost inevitable. Jenna turns it into a cough. Not very convincing probably, because at least three people are looking at her. One of them is Peter.

 _‘I am allowed to cough, am I?_ _’_ “Sorry, bit dry air in here.”

Peter raises an eyebrow, she politely ignores whilst tugging away some imaginary fuzz of her jacket.

“Maybe you should drink something,” he suggests.

 _‘Maybe you should learn to give a proper snog!’_ “Nah, it is fine.”

Then they do take four and five and she can’t lie anymore to herself. She is jealous.

Not because of Michelle, she really likes her. She is an outstanding Missy/Master and is super nice to her.

Okay, she has to admit, she is a bit envious of her. She and Peter - both Scots, come along so very well and have obviously so much fun in their scenes together, that Jenna feels a bit left out.

And even he is professional about the kiss and just wants the best for it, she can see he has fun doing it. They don’t mess up on purpose, nevertheless.

She just feels that they are finding new ways of doing it, only to kiss again. Gladly they didn’t kiss every time they have something new in mind, because than they would have been somewhere by take 24.

 _‘One more take and I fake a faint.’_ Take seven is done, and everybody - even Jenna - seems happy.

“Great!” Peter says to Michelle and they snicker again.

Jenna huffs, and walks over to her seat to get some water and then goes off to lunch without asking them to come with her. No need to disturb them in their Scottish friend zone anyway.

She is glad they have no more scenes together at this day, and when the day ends she walks to her trailer, exhausted. Tired and still a bit angry with herself. Why making a fuzz? Why did it hit her so? Because of the kiss? Or because he had such a good time with Gomez?

Sure, she and Peter have a close bond, after month of filming. They share almost all time together, have fun and good talks together. It is okay when he spends some time with another co-actor, so does she, with Samuel. No big deal.

And yet.

“Fuck this!” she murmurs, holding her script, a plastic coffee mug and her sunglasses in her hand, in front of her trailer.

“The door can nothing for it, that you carry so much around, and are not able to open it up,” Peter smiles at her and Jenna questions her own courtesy. She hasn’t seen him coming.

“I didn’t mean the door,” she only says, placing the mug down on the floor. In defense she glances around, almost with the question of Michelles where about on her lips, but she bites it down.

“Mh, thought that,” Peter leans against her trailer beside the door, noticing her look around. “Do you expect someone?”

“What makes you think that?” she opens the door, toward Peter and he stares at the grey metal. It is not only now he knows something is in the air.

He steps around and follows her without a word into her trailer, resting his shoulder at the counter by the door, like he did endless times before. Jenna gives him a short look in the mirror in front of her, she knows he is seeing it. In five month time it is the first time she seems to see his visit as intruding.

Scratching his neck he watches her placing her things around in her trailer. Following with his eyes, he keeps standing there, waiting for her to speak up.

She hates when he does that, this little game of his. Playing the nice little puppy, doing as if nothing is up, but she knows him way too well that he tries to bring her out of the shell. She can feel his looks on her, following every move she does, knowing she has to turn around at some moment. It helps her, that she has forgotten to stow away some stuff in the morning, so she takes her time to place them away, ignoring him as much as possible.

He is a patient man, and so he decides to stay where he is, watching her play out the time. She can’t clean up forever, but she is a queen when it comes to ignoring him. So after a few minutes, he reaches for the door knob and closes the door behind him.

“What is it?” he asks in a calm voice, it reminds her of Malcolm Tucker. He is ready to snap any time.

She sits down, making a gesture with her hands, she changes her tactic, brings a smile to her lips, “You want tea?”

“Yes, why not,” he takes her invitation and walks over to the little table. She does as if she is cheerful and funny, but he knows her too well. There is this little spark in her eyes, that tells him a lot about her anger.

“So,” she pours some water in the kettle, “how was your day?”

“You never ask how my day was,” he rubs a little coffee drop off the table with one of his fingers.

“Of course I do,” searching for two mugs and places them in front of him.

“No, you don’t, not when you are like this,” he spins the cups a bit around, till the handles touches each other.

“And I am like what?”

“You are morose,” spinning the cups again to the opposite.

“What makes you say that?” she eyes him, her voice one octave to high for being not sarcastic.

He smiles at her, scratches his ear, takes a deep breath, “I know you.”

Jenna looks at him a second too long, knowing he is right, feeling it will make it hard to keep her cover. It is inevitable that at the end of this conversation they will have turned around each others cards. They can’t hide from each other. Maybe a change of topic can help.

“Where is Michelle, thought you both were off to some Scots evening - with  Steven maybe,” she knows she fails in sounding innocent.

His forehead furrows, it slightly dawns him what is up, “No, she is off to the hotel.”

She fills the hot water into the cups and seats herself across from him. “I just thought.”

“Mh,” he fills some milk in his cup, and stares intently at her. “Jenna?”

“You didn’t answer my question, about your day?”

“Yes, it was a good day, good work, fun,” he is not quite sure, what she wants to hear.

“Fun? You quite enjoyed it, didn’t you?” it makes no more difference if she says it like this or in a more obvious way, she knows he knows now.

His tongue peaks out, and he catches it with his teeth, before he says something stupid. “It is about the kiss.”

It is not a question.

She sips from her tea, to hide her mouth, but her eyes glare at him. “Good work, you two really come along with each other. You really had fun, hadn’t you?”

It is not her obvious jealousy what makes him uncomfortable inside, it is more her fake smile, her cheerful sound, that he doesn’t like. For some reason he is unable to deal with her like that, it is like running around on a minefield. “Yeah, fun, well not in that way, it was… just.. good work and it was very productive.”

“Mh,” she smiles as if he has made a compliment, before dropping her smile again to hide it behind her mug. “Seven takes, very productive.”

Peter rubs his face, smiling helplessly into his palms. “Four takes.”

“What? I counted-”

“-no. You and Samuel. Four takes and the four from earlier,” he puffs out - Malcolm Tucker has entered the room. “So I am actually, one left behind, and you are the mighty kisser her!”

She leans back a bit, straightening her back. Did he really counted her takes with Samuel? She didn’t even remember he was there. Desperately she tries to remember something that was already a few weeks ago.

He has flipped over the situation, and echoes her earlier behaviour with giving her a smug smile.

“I didn’t know you were there,” she folds her hands in front of her.

“I was,” he takes a large gulp from his hot tea. It burns down his throat. “So, is it fine for you, when we settle down on the opinion, that we are both a bit jealous.”

“I am not-” she bites her lip, moving her head from the left to the right, “Wait a minute! You have been jealous?”

Pursing his lips, rethinking his admission, his face makes a twitch. “My companion kisses the PE teacher, I think I can be jealous.”

She doesn’t wants to, but she laughs about it, “Don’t do that. Don’t hide behind the Doctor.”

He leans forward, his chin low and his look comes from below, when he gives the moment a coy smile, “We both know it is better that way.”

They had talked about it, he had admitted his wish for the end of this or the next season a few weeks ago to her. Not for the sake of the story and the Doctor, more for the sake of him and her.(*)

That night she had went to bed, and his words echoed in her ears like a good cause of catchy tune. Maybe that is what happens when you are around someone all day and sometimes all night. When you spend more time with a colleague as with your friends and family, maybe that it is what then happens. From colleagues to friends to... something else.

“Moffat will never write a kiss,” she rests her head on her hands in front of him. “We both know that.”

He grins at her, like he knows something she doesn’t, “Good he is not the only writer,” of course Peter knows better.

For a moment they share glances, each other lost in a possibility that might never will come. Not on this show. Moffat is a teaser, and seldom gives the viewer what they really want. They could suggest things, could give the script some enhancement with their way of acting, with their way of seeing the characters. Little touches here and there, a little tremble in their voices but any other physical contact - no. Aside that, in this moment, at the table, they just hide behind their characters. Holding back by known circumstances.

“What about…,” he trails off, unsure, insecure.

She senses he has a solution at hand, “What about what?”

He inhales, waggles his shoulders, “What about... an imaginary ...kiss?”

Jenna frowns. “An imaginary… hu?”

“Imagine, you write a book, you write a kiss,” he grabs for his and her mug and places it aside. “You don’t write: “ _kiss_ ”. You explain.”

Now it dawns to her. “I see. I don’t know.”

He shrugs, “Yeah you're right. Stupid idea.”

“I didn’t say that,” she answers quickly, “I only say, I usually don’t describe kisses.”

“No? What do you do then?” he winks at her.

“Alright, fine, go ahead, start!”

He rubs his hands together, before placing his hands onto the table, aside from Jenna’s. He gestures her to come a bit closer, so they are just some inches apart. “Close your eyes. Come on, I close mine too. You don’t kiss with open eyes.”

She chuckles for a second, then closes her eyes. He probably will flick her nose and do some comical version of a kiss. There is a moment of silence, so she squints and even his eyes are close he longs for her face, “I told you not to look!” softly he brushes over her eyes, before placing his hand back by her elbow.

“Do you do this sometimes as a drinking game?” breathing out, feeling her own breath bounce off of Peters face.

“Shut up!”

“Yes, boss!”

He grabs her elbows in surprise and makes her squeal, “Imagine!”

“I am imagining.”

“I haven’t started yet, so shut up!”

This time she keeps herself quiet by biting her lower lip.

“Maybe it is late,” he starts, his voice low. “Maybe it rains outside.”

“It does not,” she whispers, more in defence, because she feels she is already taken by his words.

She can feel a finger on her nose, over her lips and on her chin, “Shut up,” he whispers and she can feel a shiver when he takes his hand away.

“Maybe it is cold, and maybe it is warm too. Maybe there is a smile, maybe there is a moment of anticipation. Before someone leans in.”

A smile, “To do what?”

“Tell me.”

A short hesitation, vanishing fast when he touches her elbows again. “Kissing.”

She knows he smiles without seeing him. “We don’t write just “kiss”.”

A moment goes by, and she tries to make the pictures in her head freeze, so she can describe it better. “Capturing.”

“Capturing?

“Claiming.”

“Claiming what?”

“Lips.”

“Mh,” he hums and she can hear him swallow. “Tasting like bubblegum, maybe.”

“Bubblegum?” she asks and almost can’t get the word out.

“Or tea?” he clinks softly against the mugs, he had placed away. “Teasing.”

“Pecking,” she sighs.

“By the corner of the mouth, followed by teasing. How sounds that?”

The pictures in her head are now vividly alive. She is unable to find the pause button. “Tongue?”

“Would make the kiss realistic,” he can’t stop himself from brushing his thumps against her covered arms.

“Very much so.”

Silence lingers over them and Jenna is tempted to open her eyes. While she battles to do so Peter leans careful forward till his forehead rest by hers. She flinches, but he keeps her in place by squeezing her arms. Telling her that everything is okay, calming her.

She needs to inhale loudly, pressing her eyelids down. She stops caring, that he can imagine from the sounds she makes, that her heart races fast like a engine on the edge.

“Nervous?” his breath collides with her chin.

“A wee bit,” she smirks.

Rubbing softly his skin against hers, “Happens, when it is a first kiss.”

Her hands slowly embrace his arms, by the crook of his arm. It is July, he is wearing only a tee.

“We can stop if you want,” he suggests after a while of just breathing and humming sounds.

Her fingertips make the tiniest movements on the inside of his arm, “No. I was just thinking.”

He hums, a covered laugh, “Or imagining?”

“You really enjoying this, do you?”

“And why not,” he shifts his head slightly to the left without losing the contact to her forehead. “Wet.”

She doesn’t know it but her tongue darts out to dab over her lips. “Whiskey.”

“I had none.” He does the same.

“You said it is cold and it rains.”

“So there is whiskey then?”

“Shut up.”

He clicks his tongue.

She waits a few more seconds, viewing all the pictures in her head, relishing them, “Till we would get out of air.”

He likes the thought and gives a laugh while realizing he had stopped breathing a while ago. “Fierce.”

“Would there be some biting?” she asks.

“Nibbling maybe.”

“Maybe.”

They both fall into a superficial silence. Underneath there is a loud drumming made by two beats. A rush in both their ears. It almost sounds like the rain, they imagine.

She inhales deep, and her hands slowly loosening the grip around his arms, moving away her head, just half an inch. When she opens her eyes, he is looking at her, and of course she asks herself for how long he has them open, but she decides, that she doesn’t care. His pupils are dilated and so are hers.

Maybe they have gone too far, she can’t tell. The way he looks at her, he can’t tell either. She can see his eyes flicker, can see that he is shaken inside. His eyes linger a bit too long on her lips and the only thing she does is let him do it. No backing away, no words of a negative demand.

“Maybe,” he says and raises his hand between the space of their lips.

Carefully she watches him, not sure what it means, when he leans forward it clicks for her.

Her mouth lands on the back of his hand, on one of his knuckles. He presses his lips against his own palm.

A kiss.

Their noses graze somewhat before they close their eyes and Peter is tempted to bring his hand to her cheek, however he represses the urge and starts to move away.

Jenna sees, that his eyes are still shut and his hand still lingers in the air. He bites his lips and she assumes he is a mess inside - like herself.

Leaning back into the seat he looks over to her, the hand he hasn’t used ruffles through his hair, grabbing his curls in the back of his neck. The other hand still not laying on the table. She takes it, her thumb stroking over his palm, and he smiles at her.

He opens his mouth in an attempt to say something, but it doesn’t matter what crosses his mind, it is not enough for him. “Uhm… I should say sorry, but.. it would be a lie,” he glances toward the clock. “It is late. I probably should go.”

“Do you go, because…,” she is not sure, so she needs to know.

He presses her hand. “I’ll go because it’s late, and for no other reason,” he assures her. “You know.”

She lets go of his hand, “I know.”

They stand both by the trailer door, he stands outside on the pavement and she still inside - at least once he has to look up to her.

Giving her a grin, he presses a quick kiss onto her cheek, “Sleep well, my dear companion.”

When he is about to turn away, she grabs for his wrist and in an familiar impulse his long fingers span around hers too. He not wants to go, they both know that. Though they both know it must be.

“Thank you for the kiss.”

He notices that she is not blushing, in contrast to himself. Opening his mouth, she knows what he wants to say, “Shut up!” she smirks and holds out a finger as a full stop.

Chuckling, he keeps quiet. They will never get a kiss, and that is fine.

They found a way.

_**  
** _

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it - if so ---> Kudos? ---> Comment?  
> OMG! I just found out how to add gifs I use on tumblr for my stories on A03. Life changing!


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